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Bastard Brigade
The Bastard Brigade is one of the more infamous bands of murderous raiders that prowl the tundras and hills of post-war Montana. Well equipped and highly successful, this group of slavers and bandits owe no small amount of their renown to their twelve main members, each hand-picked by their enigmatic founder, Old Fergus. Fronted by the twelve most ruthless and ambitious of their number, the gang is more of a pantheon of larger than life personalities and their sycophantic cronies than a proper gang. Every major raider of the group commands their own cadre of hangers on, who in turn form the bulk of the group. Together, the twelve operate what is likely the most lucrative raider gang in all of the former state of Montana, extorting vast sums of caps and supplies from various settlements without ever firing a shot. Not that they are deluded by a pretense that theirs is the more noble side of the profession, the Bastard Brigade are cold-blooded murderer's to a man, and won't hesitate to break out their heavy artillery for the sake of violence itself. As the decades have rolled on, the Bastard Brigade has begun to legitimize their operation in small doses, offering their muscle to various shadowy groups and disreputable settlements for easy caps. Time will tell whether this band of brutes continue to sustain themselves in a bloody cycle of murder and banditry, or if they will eventually burn out like so many other raider gangs before them. History Organization Weapons/Technology Notable Individuals Larz Lieutenant and heir apparent of the Bastard Old Fergus A man in his late sixties, weather-beaten and covered in scars and mended bullet wounds, and sporting a home-made (and self-installed) cybernetic right eye and left hand, at first glance the wizened figure of Old Fergus would illicit little suspicion. But all it would take an experienced survivor of the wasteland would be one look into Fergus' remaining cold blue eye to realize that one is in the presence of a ruthless, uncompromising man hell bent on clinging to every ragged shred of life hes clawed from this merciless wasteland. His past before forming the Bastard Brigade is unknown to all but the gangs current leader, Larz, and even he does not speak openly about it, out of respect to the old man who gave him his start. What is known is that Old Fergus was born in a bunker during one of the harshest radioactive winters in Montana's post-war history, and that he ran with a group of power armored raiders, not wholly unlike the Bastards he would later go on to form. His first group, his family, were well trained, well equipped, and driven to survive at all odds. They avoided or killed any other humans they came across, and survived by using their advanced technology to prey upon the weak. However, one day, Old Fergus was all that was left of his original group, and he realized that even with his experience and equipment, he would surely perish alone in the unforgiving wastes. So he began recruiting from the only people he knew could understand his lifestyle, raiders. At first, he would simply find a gang, kill its leader, and rule the surviving underlings through fear and fear alone. But these motley collections of slaves would inevitably try to betray him (and die), try to escape (and die), or perish in the line of duty. Surt A ruthless hulk of muscle and rage, Surt's past before he wound up in the ranks of the Bastard Brigade is somewhat of a mystery. He blew in from the wastes, clad in simple metal armor and with no supplies save six syringes of Psycho, three empty syringes that once held Psycho, and a small leather purse of Buffout tablets. What Surt lacked in brains he more than made up for in psychotic strength and dogged endurance. When one of the former Bastards, a nasty piece of work by the name of Dugan, lay slain after a particularly uncomfortable encounter with a pack of Super Mutants, it was Surt who singlehandedly killed the mutants with his trusty missile launcher and flaming Shiskebab. Claiming what was his due, as was the way of the Bastard Brigade, Surt quickly proved himself to be an asset to the gang. Wielding a gigantic Shishkebab and with his trusty missile launcher strapped to his back, Surt is a mountain of hateful meat and fire as he thunders through whatever Larz or Old Fergus sets him against. Surt is particularly fast friends with the other savage of the group, Kills-With-Teeth, and is romantically involved with the vicious Charlie Cuts. However, Surt often clashes with the likes of Carter and Oldking, the street-wise ganger from out east and the aged ghoul mercenary often mocking Surt for his lack of intelligence and forethought. Charlie Cuts Carter Carter has never truly seen himself as a raider, merely a businessman. His trade? Death and violence, sold at a premium. Growing up on the anarchic streets of Boston, Carter was orphaned at a young age by Super Mutants and ended up a feral child of the wasteland for much of his formative years. Surviving through guile and ruthlessness, it wasn't until the hardened age of thirteen that he fell in with the Triggermen of Goodneighbor. Working as a hired killer and enforcer, Carter proved himself to be an old soul when it came to spreading pain and misery, acting with almost preternatural precision as he killed with weapons and bare hands alike. But it wasn't to last, Carter let his vices get the better of him, and quickly ran afoul of the gang that had, up until then, treated him like family. One drunken shootout with fellow high ranking Triggermen was all it took to land Carter on the lam, fleeing the Commonwealth as quickly as he could to parts unknown out west. Hounded by bounty hunters for almost two years, Carter once again became a disheveled creature of the wasteland once again. Gone was the pretense of the proud mafioso flair, gone were the pleasantries of a gentleman robber-baron. His ruthlessness laid bare, Carter made a living ambushing and killing travelers on the dangerous roads of the former American Midwest. His tattered old bowler hat remained his only real connection to his more prestigious past, and Carter was forced more than once to utterly abandon any attempt to lay down roots as the relentless assassins and bounty hunters of the Triggermen always came knocking, sooner or later. Eventually, Carter found himself in the tundras of post-war Montana. Cold, tired of running, and alone, Carter decided to make his stand in the snowed in remains of a trailer park. Setting up makeshift bombs, booby traps, and other such countermeasures, Carter waited for his pursuers to finally come to finish the job. Instead, the Bastard Brigade came, led by a Triggerman agent, looking to collect the bounty on Carter's head. A pitched siege ensued, and one of the Bastards met a grizzly end at the business end of Carter's trusty switchblade, and the Triggerman henchman was blown to pieces by a rigged charge. Surrounded in a now burning trailer, the Bastards gave Carter a choice. They needed a new warm body for the gang, and if Carter was willing to a scrap of his tattooed flesh as proof, the gang would gladly split the bounty with him. An agonizing, fevered few seconds, and Carter was a new man. Now, flanked by his mafioso goons, Carter often remarks that Al Capone might have been a tough guy, but he could never handle a submachine gun or slit throats like he can. Minx Bart Oldking A truly ancient Ghoul, Robert King, better known as 'Oldking' has allowed his morals to... 'evolve' over the centuries. Once a private detective and bounty hunter in Texas, Oldking carried on without much adjustment after the bombs transformed him into a cadaverous creature of the wastes. As long as he could remember, Oldking was always good at squeezing things out of people, whether that be money, information... or organs. A deadly and borderline criminal man in the civilized year of 2077, Oldking became a mercenary without scruples, wandering the wastes as a murderer and hunter of men for a living until his exploits in the Corpse Coast earned him enough powerful enemies to drive him out of his ancient stomping grounds. During his travels through the vast wastes of middle America, he often had to interact with tribals to survive. The primitives he ran with called him, "The Old King", as he would regale them with tales of how his life used to be better, with regular showers and food whenever he so desired. The Ghoul hitman figured the name suited him, and figured that while he was on his long walk to wherever civilization may lie he might as well reinvent himself, lest any 'old friends' from the Corpse Coast considered him worth finding. In his travels, Oldking came across the Bastard Brigade, the group ambushing the caravan the ghoul had hitched a ride with as an armed guard. When his employer was slain in the fighting, the Ghoul stole the caps stash off the panicked pack Brahmin and took off as fast as his decrepit legs could carry him. One of the Brigade gave chase, and pinned the Ghoul. Surrounded by bloodthirsty raiders and their champion, Oldking had little choice but to hand over the caps... With a freshly primed plasma grenade crammed into the contents. Using a raider to shield himself from the blast, Oldking convalesced in the Bastard Brigades headquarters in Jack's, and was given an offer by then leader Old Fergus. Join or die. Ever since then, Oldking has provided the group with his steady aim and quick trigger finger, an adaptable and capable fighter with his Laser Rifle and Ripper. Ophelia Maximum Nos A manic jet addict and violent sociopath, Nos' few redeeming qualities are his surprising depths of technological know-how and devilish charisma, without which the man would have ended up a dried up junkie starving to death in the midwestern tundra. Kills-With-Teeth Panther Cocksure, violent, and utterly a slave to his own ego, Panther would not have survived long in the wasteland if he were not tough, mean, and always eager to take advantage of any given situation. A small time thug in his home settlement of the Dump, Quotes By About Category:Groups Category:Raiders Category:Mercenaries Category:Montana